


Call Me Mistress

by UndyDala



Series: Lady D & Me [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No idea where I’m going with this, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Other, RUN BICH RUN, Reader is a byproduct of experimentation, Reader-Insert, Vampires Are Chasing Ya, just a bit, mildly erotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndyDala/pseuds/UndyDala
Summary: You escaped Heisenbergs genetic mutation experiments, but somehow ended up in a much more dangerous situation.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader, Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/You
Series: Lady D & Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191854
Comments: 13
Kudos: 98





	Call Me Mistress

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: 
> 
> I told myself I wouldn’t do this, now here I am. Riding the ‘Vampire Milf’ bandwagon with the rest of you. Sigh.

Darkness is an all consuming feeling. You’re either drowning, or floating comfortably in the void. 

Which is why when you wake up, slowly leaving the land of peaceful bliss, you feel dreadful. Panic chokes you, because you simply do not remember getting here. 

Your head is pounding, the dull ache behind your eyes not at all helpful. Slowly willing your cramped legs to stand, you feel a sticky cold substance beneath your feet - that is when you notice the putrid stench of rotting carcass. You gag at the unholy smell, as unseeing eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding. From behind bars, there are human corpses hung from the ceiling. 

In front of you, a woman’s naked torso is hung just right outside your cell. Headless, entrails spilt from the abdomen, a pool of dark liquid below the dangling corpse. 

Horror stricken, you lurch forward, emptying what little contents were left in your stomach. The bile acidic and burning. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes from sheer burn and smell.

The sticky liquid you stand barefoot in is quite obviously blood, which is why you’re brought to your knees for another powerful chuck up. Groaning in disgust, you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. 

‘Where the fuck am I? Who the fuck chained me here? How the fuck will I get out?’

You remember just barely escaping that lunatic Heisenbergs manor, and whilst you were running you blacked out.

You quietly contemplate, shivering out of fear. You get up to try and rattle the cell door open, it doesn’t budge. Looking around was useless as the cell was still quite dark, even with your eyes adjusted. 

You grimace at the thought of having to kneel in blood and possibly your own vomit. 

Kneeling onto the dungeon floor, you blindly feel around for something. Anything. And it is just your luck that you find a key. Quietly, you insert the key into the padlocked cell to unlock the door. 

A groaning creak echoes throughout the dungeon as the cell door opens, you are extra careful as you walk around the hanging torso and it’s spilt entrails. 

‘What monstrous person could’ve done all this?’, you think as you carefully weave your way through the dead bodies. The dungeon opens up into a wine cellar, sweet coppery smells replace the stink of death as you pass aisles, cabinets of wine bottles. Walking through the dark cellar, you approach a cobble stoned stairway winding upwards.

It feels like you tread the stairway for what seems hours, when in reality it was only a few minutes, as you finally approach a red door. The iron door knob was shockingly cold as you opened it.

You warily step out into a long corridor, and you are struck with a sense of grandeur. There are many rooms that line the predominantly scarlet painted gold trimmed corridor, and for a second you become confused. 

How could such opulence be acquainted with the dreadful reality of this place? 

You walk, although careful not to creak any floorboards lest you alert your captors. 

You cannot shake the feeling of malevolence, there are presences in this place that, although you’ve not yet had the displeasure of meeting, you know for certain they are here. It has you on constant alert. Even though you wear a hoodie, you still have goosebumps, and not necessarily because you’re cold.

You tense when you hear broken bits of conversation coming from further down the corridor.

“Absolutely - cannot fathom - foolish man”, a woman voices indignantly. 

Any logical person would’ve continued to find an escape, but your curiosity is piqued. Is this woman your captor? Why does she sound aggravated? What are you dealing with? You move furtively, closer towards the voice. 

‘You fucking idiot! What are you doing?! Stop now!’, yet you continue to ignore the warning, limbs seemingly moving of their own accord. You swallow a lump in your throat as you stop, crouching just behind the door frame of said room. 

The door was slightly ajar, you took the liberty of peeking through. 

You quietly gasp, jaw hanging in stunned silence.

In front of a vanity dressing table sat a woman, garbed in a white silk dress and a floppy wide brimmed black hat. She was the epitome of elegance and beauty. Although freakishly tall (even while sitting), you can’t help averting your attention to her face in the mirror.

Glowing amber eyes cut into her porcelain profile, they focus intently on her reflection in the vanity mirror as she expertly reapplies red lip stick in what seems to be frustration. The moonlit room somewhat outlining her severe expression.

“Yes, I understand the importance of this occasion, Mother Miranda. That fool has his test subjects running amuck”, an annoyed sigh, “My daughters found one in the forest, passed out. It’s locked in the castle dungeons as we speak.”

She caps the the lipstick, delicately placing it back on the vanity. Her gloved hand slightly tightens around the corded telephone, face slowly setting in stone. Eyebrows furrowed.

“Because it’s already proven too much for my daughters to handle, there is simply too much to be done! My foolish brothers mistakes are NOT of my concern”, she asserts callously. 

You are so caught up in listening to the phone conversation that you don’t realise the looming presence behind you. 

Your skin prickles uneasily, your breath hitches as you slowly turn your head. 

A cloaked woman stands behind you, a sick smile plastered onto her blood stained mouth as she stares down at you. She is beautiful, but dangerously so. 

“It’s a bit rude to eavesdrop on your Mistress’ conversation, is it not?” A sinister undertone of mirth. You now notice the woman is holding a Khopesh sickle, it’s blade glinting dangerously in the candlelit corridor with splotches of old blood.

You are still, frozen like a deer in headlights. What does one do in such a situation? 

You slowly back away, your eyes never leaving hers. The glint in her eyes tells you she’s amused. 

‘Oh shit’

You are quick to reel around, staggering in haste as you run before she was able to grab you by the neck. 

You make a mad dash forward, further down the corridor. You spare a glance behind you hearing a demented fit of giggles, and your eyes widen upon seeing two more cloaked women appearing from a cloud of insects. They are chasing you.

‘SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT’, your brain is firing off a million signals at once, fear makes your heartbeat erratic whilst you’re running. The corridor has many twists and turns, you run into walls that seem to appear out of no where and you trip over your feet many times. 

You feel a little lost, this place was like a maze the longer you run.

Eventually you slow down to a light footed jog. No one is chasing you anymore, but you know better. 

‘Keep. Moving.’ 

Your lungs burn as you try to regulate your breathing again, although it’s a bit hard to do so when you’re still jogging. Sweat glides down your forehead burning your eyes, you hastily wipe at your eyes momentarily distracted.

Big mistake.

You finish rubbing your eyes, only to have a pale fist smash into your face. Pain, as you are sent flying. Darkness envelopes your vision. A metallic taste, blood, fills your mouth.

The last thing you hear is that damned maniacal giggle.

When you awaken, it is to darkness once more. It takes a moment for your thoughts to register, and then pain. Your nose was broken you were sure, your jaw felt unhinged. Groaning in discomfort, you tried to move your arms only to find that they were tightly bound to your sides. 

Judging by the coarse feel of material, it was rope. You tried screaming for help, but your mouth was gagged by more rope. Your legs too. You were rendered immobile, blind folded. 

You are scared yes, yet you do not cry. You are more angry then anything else. Angry at yourself for being in this predicament, and angry at your captors. 

What the fuck did you do to deserve this? 

Your teeth grind at the thick rope wedged between your mouth. Unknowingly, your canine teeth begin to sharpen and elongate. 

Frustration, anger and fear at war with each other had you thrashing in your confines. With each passing moment you felt your mind slowly descending into a red haze.

Low growls emitted deep from within your chest, seemingly becoming more beastly every passing moment. Your senses became heightened as your hearing picked up the slightest clack of heels. 

The sound grew closer, each step seemed to reverberate in your head until you heard a door quietly creak open. The air no longer smells like old books and burnt out firewood - instead it smelt faintly of wilted roses, sandal wood, the copper smell of blood and tobacco smoke.

Whoever had just stepped into the room smelt absolutely divine. 

An airy chuckle resounded throughout the room, followed by the soft closing of the door.

“Why, if it isn’t the failed lab rat them self”, a woman’s sensuous voice addressed mockingly. You immediately recognised who it was - the beautiful woman who’d been having a heated exchange of words over telephone.

You stiffen. You couldn’t see as you were still blindfolded, but you could tell she was grinning. 

“My dear, you’ve caused quite the commotion tonight haven’t you?”, she asks amusedly. “Making my daughters chase you throughout the west wing. Eavesdropping on my private conversations.” 

She sounds almost impressed. Contemplative. 

You hear her footsteps slowly circling your roped form. You feel her eyes burning into you without having to look.

A low guttural growl escapes your throat, your teeth gnashing against your gag. 

The woman tuts disapprovingly. 

You feel the blindfold around your eyes being gently pulled away, and you are once more able to see. Except this time your vision is different, everything seemed reddened.

In front of you is the silk of the woman’s dress, the excess fabric fallen in gentle folds around her feet. Your gaze travels upwards, the silk of her creme coloured dress hugging legs that went on for miles, past sinuously wicked hips that dipped into a cinched waistline, before opening up into full breasts. 

You are now having to fully crane your neck towards the ceiling from your seated position.

Your gaze finally meets her molten coloured eyes, they hold a sinister glimmer of mirth in them, daring you to look away. Her scarlet painted lips split into a terrifying yet capturing smile. The red enhanced vision somehow adding to the smouldering effect of this terrifying woman.

“Hm, how peculiar. My brothers experimentations usually come out rather hideous. Yet you still look human and still have a conscious mind. How is this so?”, she questions herself quietly while examining you. 

You growl once again, eyes burning with ire as you hold her gaze.

“Fuck you”, you spat. Although the insult sounded funny with you still gagged and what not.

She seems startled with your choice of wording for a moment, before chuckling. The sound sends a slithery cold prickle of centipede legs up your spine, because the laughter held no mirth.

Before you could react, her hand is wrapped around your throat hoisting you up to her eye level. She wears a strained smile, as if hanging on to sanity by a thread. 

You struggle in her grasp, wildly kicking at the air and thrashing. You try bringing your legs up to push against her abdomen in hopes she’d drop her hold on you, however she seems to have read your motives before you even acted.

Two long strides and she slams you against the wall, her large hand tightening around your throat, constricting your breathing. You grunt in pain as the shelves around you rattle from the force. 

She brings her lips right next to your ear, her curled raven locks tickling your throat as she leans in.

“Oh? Is that so, you pathetic mutt?”, she whispers breathily. Her vermillion lips are touching the shell of your ear slightly, her skin ice cold. You shiver against her touch.

She lowers her head slightly, her lips ghosting just above your neck as she holds you in place. Glowing amber eyes never leaving yours as she does so. 

“You never had a chance”, she growls before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your neck. Your eyes widen in pain as you let out a strained gurgle. Your muffled scream does nothing to stop her.

You feel her draining your blood quickly, like a parched desert nomad stumbling upon an oasis. The blood loss has your head spinning, and you feel tired. Your energy next to non existent. 

Before you could pass out from blood loss, she pulls away. You felt her licking at the wound to collect any droplets. 

“Mmm, how delicious”, she says breathlessly. Your heavily lidded eyes watch as she uses the hand not holding you to swipe at her bloodied chin. She brings a gloved finger to her lips and slowly laves her tongue up the gloved digit, savouring the taste of your blood. She moans in delight. Your cheeks slightly redden at the lascivious sound.

She then abruptly drops you. On impact with the wooden floor you release an ‘oomph’. 

“I believe I’ve yet to introduce myself”, she spoke gratingly, as if she hadn’t just drained you of your blood. 

“I am Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. This place in which you bleed is Castle Dimitrescu, my homestead.” Her voice no longer a threatening whisper, instead sounding every bit the commanding presence she was. Albeit more frightening.

Her eyes narrow down at you from her towering height, making you slightly cower. You don’t realise your canines retreating back to their normal size, and your eyesight returning to normal. 

But she does.

“Since you aren’t a total failure of a test subject, I suppose I will keep you to myself. Heisenberg need not know I have you”, she says contemplatively, arms folded beneath her bust.

‘Heisenberg? What does this bitch know about Heisenberg? Was she working alongside him?’

You glare at her, although she only smirks in amusement.

“I can see you have questions little one. They shall be answered in due time. For now however,” she trails off as she crouches down to your level. She grins. Her glowing eyes flint edged steel as they bore through your soul.

“You may call me Mistress.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> My first time ever writing a reader insert, hope I didn’t do too bad lmao.
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope everyone is well and safe!


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